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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23290057">Unicorns and Starry Eyes, Cherries and Cream</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WideTheWaters/pseuds/Fantastic%20Beasts%20and%20Where%202%20Fondle%20Them'>Fantastic Beasts and Where 2 Fondle Them (WideTheWaters)</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WideTheWaters/pseuds/WideTheWaters'>WideTheWaters</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Accidental Perfect Date, Ambiguous MC Hogwarts House, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, Bi Andre Egwu, Care of Magical Creatures, Cinnamon Roll Barnaby Lee, Easter, Easter Holidays, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Dates, First Kiss, First Love, First Time, Fluff and Smut, For Science!, Gratuitous Baking Allusions, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Forbidden Forest, Hogwarts Fourth Year, Hogwarts Inter-House Friendships, Hogwarts Inter-House Relationships, Ignorance of Teenage Dating Norms, Innocence, Loss of Virginity, Magical Tree House, Magizoology (Harry Potter), Mating Rituals, Mythical Beings &amp; Creatures, Ostara, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Several-Chapter-Long Sex Scene, Sugar, Sweetness, Unicorns, tragic childhoods</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:35:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,225</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23290057</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/WideTheWaters/pseuds/Fantastic%20Beasts%20and%20Where%202%20Fondle%20Them, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WideTheWaters/pseuds/WideTheWaters</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Her friend Barnaby is terrifically excited about a Care of Magical Creatures project, and asks her if she'll come with him.  Determined to support him in this one area of his life where he feels consistently capable and engaged, she agrees... but she wasn't <i>entirely</i> paying attention when he gave her all the details.  Only when they're already deep in the Forbidden Forest, in the middle of the night, does she learn they're off to study the mysterious mating rituals of unicorns. </p><p>What follows is scary, unexpected, beautiful, powerful, awkward, and life-changing - maybe for the unicorns, too.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Andre Egwu/Facepaint Kid, Barnaby Lee &amp; Player Character, Barnaby Lee/Original Character(s), Barnaby Lee/Original Female Character(s), Barnaby Lee/Player Character, Barnaby Lee/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>151</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Banoffee Pie</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/granger_danger/gifts">granger_danger</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>CONTENT WARNINGS:</p><p>- Explicit sexual content between two same-age teenagers with explicit consent<br/>_ Magizoological observation of the unicorns mating<br/>- More subtly, ready developing romance between two young people who both have a history of childhood isolation and problematic parental relationships, leading to ignorance of how (especially the pacing of) adolescent courtship is supposed to work.</p><p>... and some extreme cuteness, or so I hope.</p><p>NOTES:<br/>- Now complete. <br/>- If you'd like more Hogwarts Mystery fic, let me know. None currently planned...<br/>- Unnamed Female MC of ambiguous House - but not in Slytherin with Barnaby.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>March 30, 1988 - HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT &amp; WIZARDRY</h3><p>Once again, oblivious to the double-takes it caused, Barnaby Lee plunked his tray down at the table across from her.  She barely heard a characteristically snide remark from Merula, back at their own house table, before he had excitedly started to talk, hands loading up a plate as he went. The response <em> was </em> dying down, at least - though maybe that was as much a factor of the hall’s relative emptiness over Easter hols as anything else.</p><p>In fairness, it was hard <em> not </em>to do a double-take at the sight of Barnaby under the most routine of circumstances. </p><p>It had taken her close friend, Penny Haywood, five long pumps of a firm handshake and a nervous giggle to remember to introduce herself, voice an octave high, when they’d first met in Hogsmeade - and she was <em> never </em> socially awkward.</p><p>Andre had gotten all dark-eyed and full of <em> double entendres </em> when he’d been enlisted to help style Barnaby for the Celestial Ball, and she was <em> certain </em> he hadn’t had any justifiable reason to measure Barnaby a third time, or to do it by hand when his enchanted tape had simply zipped around her own body unassisted.</p><p><em> And, </em>in Herbology, she’d once seen her best friend, the typically laser-focused Rowan Khanna, drop a log covered with Leaping Toadstools on her foot when Barnaby had whipped his befouled shirt off after a nasty Bubotuber eruption.  It had taken an hour to round all the agitated Toadstools up again, and Rowan had repeatedly tripped over her own feet when the still-topless Barnaby had bounced up to her, hands full of those he retrieved himself, widely smiling and trying to help. </p><p>“...and I’m certain it’ll happen tonight!  The moon’s nearly full, but no werewolves about yet - beautiful weather but still brisk - the conditions are perfect!”</p><p>As Barnaby finished and looked at her, his grin expectant and infectious, she blinked, shaking off her reverie.  “Em, forgive me, Barns, I’m afraid I was building castles in Spain just then - could you repeat that?”</p><p>Barnaby’s jaw had dropped, eyes wide as saucers, when she looked up from loading her fork with shepherd’s pie.  She hastily put the fork down. “Barnaby? Are you alright?” She reached across the table to feel his temple, hoping he hadn’t caught some fever.</p><p>Out of some casual reflex, he caught her hand and held it to his cheek, still gazing at her in awe.  “You can sit here, eating lunch, <em> and </em> build castles in Spain <em> at the same time? </em> And drink pumpkin juice, too?”</p><p>She blinked rapidly, face momentarily blanking as she reassembled his thought process, and then she smiled, stroking his cheekbone with her thumb cheekily.  “What? No, silly, it’s a figure of speech - you know, a saying. Like,” she threw up her free hand in a searching gesture, “Like when you say you’re knackered, but you don’t mean a butcher’s actually disassembled you for the delicatessen, you’re just <em> tired </em>, you know?”</p><p>Barnaby looked at her a moment, brow furrowed, before a smile sheepishly rekindled. “Ah!  I thought it was a spell I hadn’t been clever enough to remember, or something like that.”</p><p>It was her turn to furrow her own brow.  “Barnaby, you know I <em> hate </em> to hear you talking about yourself like that.  You know as much about creatures as Hagrid and Kettleburn together, <em> and </em> you can go toe to toe with Charlie Weasley on Dragons, you just… you just have a lot of trouble focusing, sometimes,” she said, trailing off when she noticed his eyes darting off to an errant puffskein, who seemed to have lost track of its witch or wizard and was now luxuriating in a banoffee pie several yards down the table.  Shaking her head, she turned his swiveling face back to hers. “In the Muggle world, they’re developing treatments for the problem you have. I’ve read about it. In a couple years, I suspect you’ll be able to catch up on everything you may have missed.”</p><p>He blinked at her in wonder, stroking the back of her still captive hand absentmindedly.  “Do you… do you really think so? That <em> I </em>could do that?”</p><p>She nodded fervently.  “I know it. And I’ll study everything, <em> everything </em> with you again, I’ll make the Ministry let you retake exams if you need, and I’ll make sure <em> you </em> know you can do it, too. They’ve <em> finally </em>come up with a name for it that isn’t an insult to whoever’s got it, and there are medications - my Squib cousin’s on one - and maybe this summer, even, I could take you to his doctor, and -”</p><p>“Doctor?” he interjected, confused.</p><p>She shook her head, “Em, a sort of a Muggle Healer.  My cousin Dean and I are close, he told me all about how it works, he’s doing loads better in school now he’s on Ritalin.  I bet <em> anything </em> it could work for you, too.”</p><p>Barnaby looked puzzled and thoughtful for a moment, slowly nodding, before his gaze shot across the room, eyes filling with compassionate concern.  “Oh dear. Mrs. Norris is looking a little thin, isn’t she? I do hope Ismelda hasn’t <em> really </em> gone off and given her a kick, only she talks about it in the common room, and -”</p><p>Barnaby was cut off by a piercing wolf whistle as Facepaint Kid walked by and paused to thump him on the back with a sort of congratulatory air.</p><p>“Well, Lee, <em> you’re </em> nothing to write sports news about outside the dueling club, but I’d say the school’s star Chaser’s love life is <em> definitely </em> fair game for Quidditch gossip.”  He pointed between the two of them and winked.  “Good for you two crazy kids.”</p><p>She blinked in horror and snatched her hand back from where it had been cupping Barnaby’s cheek all this time, mortified.  Barnaby just looked confused. After a moment of appearing to consider his next sentence, he finally said, “Em… you have a love life?”</p><p>His voice, somehow, was smaller than usual.</p><p>She blinked and waved her hands frantically in front of her in abnegation.  “Nooooo no no no no. <em> No. </em> I do not.  Em.” She scratched her head.  “I think maybe Facepaint Kid just misinterpreted something completely innocent and 100% not related to anyone having a love life, like, whatsoever.”</p><p>Barnaby blinked back at her, clearly still confused.</p><p>She finally just smiled, shaking her head.  She knew it did get him in trouble, that it <em> did </em>give people the wrong idea about him, but she very much hoped that treating his ADHD wouldn’t take away his innocence - even if it was directly linked to what some might call his... gullibility.  </p><p>“Barnaby, remember you were trying to tell me something earlier?  Something to do with the moon?”</p><p>His face instantly lit up again.  “Yes! You’ll come with me, won’t you? After dinner, around dusk?”  Distantly, a bell tolled one o’clock, and Barnaby instantly shot out of his seat.  “Late for remedial potions, but see you then, yeah? I want you to see it!”</p><p>Before she could ask what on earth he was talking about, Barnaby had shouldered his bag, grabbed an apple, and run out the door.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Hot Cross Buns</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>She stood waiting in the entranceway, outside the Great Hall, wondering what exactly she was waiting for.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The castle was so quiet.  Almost empty. Peeves nowhere to be seen.  Still insulated from sound somehow by the snow that hadn’t quite decided to melt, thick on the roofs and blown against the less used doors.  There was a beautiful sort of peace to it, along with the scent of the blooming Easter lilies Professor Sprout had bedecked every possible surface with.  If Christmas was Hagrid and Flitwick’s, Easter definitely belonged to the Herbology professor - though, much to the horror of Madam Pince, McGonagall did help by temporarily transfiguring some of the library’s collection of elegies into easter eggs and scattering them about, each bedecked with a beautiful portrait of the lamented subject of the original work and ready to recite the poem they had inspired.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was raptly listening to one about a Muggle-born wizard called Abraham Lincoln, who had returned to the non-magical community he’d been raised in as a political leader in a time of great need, when Barnaby came up behind her, breathing hard and clearly giddy in his anticipation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He noticed her bearing, though, and politely waited until the poem was done and she was returning the egg to its pedestal before he spoke.  “I’ve always loved lilacs,” he said, smiling. “Do you know that thestrals do, too? Eat them like anything, they do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiled a little sadly, turning to look back at him.  “I had forgotten you could see them. I can’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shuffled his feet, which she noticed were wearing his heavy winter boots.  “Well, yeah. I was young enough I hardly remember, but, well, the Dark Lord didn’t keep my parents around for their skills at nurturing the living.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her smile fell into a saddened frown, but he was already shaking his head.  “Nah, really, I hardly remember at all. Best of both worlds. They’re fascinating creatures, thestrals.  Hagrid’s let me help him feed them, and - did you remember your cloak?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She blinked, looking down at her standard indoor winter robes.  “Em, I didn’t know I needed it? You didn’t really have time to give me the details again, on where we’re going, as you left lunch.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He chewed his lip thoughtfully a moment and then started to divest himself of his own heavy, fur-lined cloak, settling it around her shoulders and producing some mittens and a hat from a pocket somewhere.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ack, no, no, I can go and get mine,” she protested, even as he fastened the cloak around her with a large, emerald brooch.  “I just need to get to the common room, and -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She trailed off as he shook his head, grinning.  “Nah, take mine. I’m so excited I’ll melt anyway, if I go all bundled up like that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She opened her mouth to protest and then stopped, shrugging.  “Well… alright.”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something about the enormous cloak, which would trail behind her for </span>
  <em>
    <span>miles</span>
  </em>
  <span>, or so it seemed, was very comforting.  The smell, she thought.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gently, dexterously, slipped the mittens onto her hands and placed the hat on her head, smiling to see his work done.  “All set now, then?” he asked, his voice in the quiet register she associated with his finishing up with the care of some creature on Kettleburn’s class.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nodded, and then followed him, hoping he’d be okay in just his sweater and… rather close-fitting trousers.  Still, she managed to look up before she ran into him when he turned to hold open the great door to the outside. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Cornish Pasties</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <span>THE EDGE OF THE HOGWARTS CASTLE GROUNDS</span>
</h3>
<p>
  <span>Several minutes later, they were entering the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, and she’d gotten a bit… concerned.  One commonality she’d noticed among the people she knew who most loved and understood magical creatures was that they didn’t necessarily guard their own safety all that closely, and though the moonlight reflected brightly off the snow, illuminating the night, they were headed into a dark wood, and she was beginning to wonder what he was getting her into.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was, at least, terribly solicitous and intuitive about how to make the journey easy on her - he lifted her over fallen trees, held branches aside, and never lengthened to his natural stride, making it easy on her to keep up with him.  It was the sort of rare, intuitive courtesy that made her realize how little she noticed the things he picked up on without any apparent effort, and how little she expected it of anyone.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And how </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice</span>
  </em>
  <span> it was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still, though… the undergrowth was thinning, the trees growing taller, the shadows more ominous. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Em, Barnaby?” she asked meekly, not wanting to alert any nearby denizens of their presence, “Where precisely are we going?  And, em, does anyone else know that we’re doing it, well,” she groped for a word, “in case anything goes awry in here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He chuckled softly, throwing her that easy, winning smile over his shoulder.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Damn, but those are some cheekbones</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she was shocked to hear herself think.  She hoped he didn’t notice her blushing as he replied.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“To see the unicorns, of course!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She slowed a moment.  “The unicorns?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned to her, walking backward through the roots and trees with no apparent effort as he faced her.  “Of course! It’ll be tonight, I’m certain!” He looked absolutely brimming with excitement. “Almost no one ever gets to see this, you realize?  But I’ve been planning - built a blind in a tree and everything. It just </span>
  <em>
    <span>has</span>
  </em>
  <span> to happen there, Kettleburn knows it’s in this area, and, y’know… someplace magical… and… well, you’ll see!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With one last winning smile, he turned again, beginning to stride a little faster in his excitement.  She considered, but shrugged - let it </span>
  <em>
    <span>be</span>
  </em>
  <span> a surprise, she supposed.  It sounded like, whatever was in the offing, Barnaby was sharing a significant discovery with her - something that would be a feather in the cap of an adult, professional Magizoologist, and definitely something that would win him a bit more respect amongst the peers who bothered to understand… er… whatever it was.  And she was in favor of that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even though it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>cold</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and her shoes did a poor job of keeping her feet dry as they crunched through the hardened remnants of the winter’s snow.  Thinking ahead a bit, she bent to grab a small handful of last year’s maple seeds when they passed some, shoving them into a pocket without stopping and potentially losing her excited friend in the night.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which was altogether too possible, especially as they were now trudging up a hill, complete with some rocky outcroppings - well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> was trudging, and he was loping along as if gravity simply didn’t apply to him.  She knew magical power had no correlation to physical strength, but it only made it that much more unfair that Barnaby possessed bucketfuls of both.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Picnic Pie</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <span>THE FORBIDDEN FOREST</span>
</h3><p>
  <span>Ten minutes later, as she hauled herself up into Barnaby’s blind, she found herself dumbstruck.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t even begin to process this “blind,” which seemed to her to be more like a decadent treehouse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once they’d gotten to the top of the hill, the valley itself had been enough to render her speechless.  Looking down now, she could barely see the edges of the enormous, shallow bowl carved into the forest floor.  Near the center of it, a huge, softly luminescent crystalline outcropping stabbed up from the ground in stately spires.  She would be willing to bet it was some sort of meteor remnant, and that much more of it was below the surface of the earth than above it - not least because one of the forest’s few hot springs burbled up around it, making a bubbling pool that smelled of evergreen needles and pennyroyal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The trees here were gargantuan and widely spaced - more the sort one saw in photographs from the west coast of the US than anything she’d ever expected to see in Britain.  The blind was only perhaps 20 feet off the ground, and some of the other trees still had roots stemming out from that nearly height. No leafy branches were this low under the looming canopy - but most of the trees did seem to be deciduous, so the light still came through, however dappled, as at this time of the year the buds of new leaves were only just reddening.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, although there was virtually no undergrowth, every possible inch of ground was covered in wood anemone, each white, star-like flower glowing in the moonlight, bobbing above deep green foliage on the gentle breeze.  She’d felt horribly guilty even following a game trail through them, knowing she was bound to step on several and that they’d likely taken ages to spread to cover this vast a space.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barnaby finished pulling up the rope ladder and closing the floor hatch, then found her leaning against the blind wall, panting, still wrapped in his overlarge cloak and looking a bit in shock.  “Are you alright? It wasn’t too much of a hike, was it?” He wrung his hands nervously. “People are always saying I don’t know my own strength, I didn’t mean to drag you all this way if -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head, smiling though still out of breath.  “No, no, it’s not that. This is just… wow, Barnaby. I don’t know where the unicorns come in, but I had no idea a place like this existed in the forest - it’s just about the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.  And,” she gestured helplessly around the tiny little domed </span>
  <em>
    <span>dwelling</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’d built up, “And… Barnaby, is that a </span>
  <em>
    <span>loo</span>
  </em>
  <span> back there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barnaby scratched at the nape of his neck self-consciously.  “Well, I know it’s not much, and if you’d be happier on the ground, we might be able to hide, but -”</span>
</p><p><span>“</span><em><span>Not too much?”</span></em><span> she exploded, shrill but not loud.  “Barnaby, this is nicer than my family’s good tent!  This is rabbit-pelt carpet, you've gotten an enormous picnic hamper up here, <em>and</em> you’ve got </span><em><span>glass</span></em> <em><span>windows </span></em><span>-”</span></p><p>
  <span>“The windows do open, though!” Barnaby rushed in apologetically.  “We’ll be able to hear!” He scrunched one eye and canted his head quizzically.  “Although… I don’t know if there will be much sound, no one’s ever written a proper account from as close as I hope we’ll be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She just blinked at him incredulously for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked back, gnawing on his lips worriedly, desperate for her approval.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then she saw him shiver slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” she cried, pulling the maple seeds she’d gathered earlier from her pocket.  “Em, you haven’t a stove or other heat here, yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face fell.  “Oh, no - are you cold?  I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> sorry, I completely forgot, it’s just I -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head vehemently.  “Don’t! I’m just glad I can contribute something to all this.  Give me a moment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lining up the maple seeds, she thought about some of the practice she’d been putting into Transfiguration recently.  McGonagall said that alliteration and sympathy both helped with Transfiguration spells - and that while the best results typically came from tried and true combinations, the hallmark of an emerging understanding of the field was being able to spot those and create new transformations on the fly.  She hoped, since the winged seeds themselves were sort of containers…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah!  It works!”  With a wave of her wand, she’d turned the five maple seeds into mason jars.  She laughed giddily and Barnaby, through his shivering, gaped between her and them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did I miss that, in Transfiguration?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, no no no!” she replied, hastily casting bluebell flames into each jar and distributing them around the circumference of the essentially round room.  “No, I’ve been doing extra study. Can’t miss any edge I can get, hunting the vaults and all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded, crossing his arms over his chest and chafing at his biceps, the bulges of which jumped under his moving hands.  “Right. Well, gosh, that’s just brilliant. Thank you! I should have thought, I’m just so stu -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She growled, surprising even herself a bit as she cut him off.  “Never,” she rumbled, “ever let me hear you call yourself that again - or anyone else, for that matter.”  She finally disengaged the brooch and threw the cloak around him, too, huddling close to him to share her own warmth.  “Especially not yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked down at her in confusion, his cheeks coloring slightly</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head, still peeved as she glared defiantly back up.  “Look at this brilliant place you brought me to. That you found. That you </span>
  <em>
    <span>built</span>
  </em>
  <span>, in your fourth year, before even taking your OWLs.  To facilitate an unprecedented breakthrough in Magizoology, while still a student yourself, to observe… to observe…”  She trailed off, looking a little lost as she lifted her hands under the cloak to chafe at his forearms to help warm him.  “Em, what exactly are the unicorns going to do, again, Barnaby?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barnaby was still a moment, but then seemed to shake off a spell.  “Mating. The unicorns mate in the brightest safe moonlight close to the vernal equinox.  Druids think it’s something to do with Ostara. Has to be someplace of great natural beauty with fine weather and, preferably, flowers.  Em. And this is the night there wasn’t a portent of rain, so…” He shrugged, moving currents of heat between their bodies under the massive cloak.  </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She </span>
  </em>
  <span>shifted her weight from knee to knee as she processed this - the ceiling wasn’t high enough for standing, but it was comfortable on the soft carpet, and she… she was beginning to understand a bit of how Rowan felt when that one Ravenclaw fellow said brilliant things in class.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But also…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Em, so, </span>
  <em>
    <span>mating</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she said, only squeaking a little over the last word.  “Em.” Her eyes flicked up to his then down. “What do the accounts that </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>exist say?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Between warmth and being on comfortable conversational territory, Barnaby’s shoulders relaxed, dropping a couple inches after he rolled them back and forward to unknot.  “Well, the stallions are meant to have rather impressive mating displays. Sometimes there are fights - they can get quite gorey, I fear - over unmated mares, but, well, unicorns mate for life, and are long-lived and seldom conceive, so that’s rare.  Some think they come to the mating grounds already fairly sure who they’d like to pair off with, and since foals seldom come, that it’s sort of a social formality, really, for most of them - like going to a da…”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barnaby’s eyes flew wide and his hand slapped over his mouth, cutting himself off mid-word.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blinked up at him, suddenly less diffident herself to see him going bright red.  “Like... going to a dance?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few weeks prior, they’d attended the Celestial Ball together.  She’d helped him magically preserve his “buccaneer” - a rose boutineer - as a souvenir, touched by his sincere admission that he’d really like a keepsake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The slow dances had been sweaty-palmed awkwardness, full of eye contact and eyes darting away, full of charged brushes against the mysterious body of the other - in short, both tantalizing and excruciating, leaving both lead-tongued and simultaneously yearning to be closer and to run away.  In fact, he’d walked her back to the door to her common room - and in the moment she looked down to gather her nerve to look up, unsure if he might want a goodnight hug - or even a </span>
  <em>
    <span>kiss</span>
  </em>
  <span> - he’d spun on his heel and sped away, posture as small as she’d ever seen him contort it to be.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a long pause as, she suspected, they both turned similar memories over in their minds and were reminded that, once again, they were in physical proximity to one another, each brushing against the fathomless but so-close body of the other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was scandalized a moment by her own errant thought: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Damn, I shouldn’t have made those bluebell flames!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaking herself a bit (and trying to ignore the collision of her soft hip with his muscular thigh), she cleared her throat.  “Em, I … I suppose that makes sense. Is … em, is there anything else I should look out for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barnaby blinked down at her.  “Well… there is a courtship ritual.  Em. Every year, the stallions work to impress the mares before their physical interaction begins.  It’s meant to be quite spectacular - there’s light involved, but no one’s ever seen more than motion and a soft glow in the distance.  That’s really what I’m the most curious about, to be honest. There’s no other mention anywhere of unicorns seeming to </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> magic, rather than just </span>
  <em>
    <span>being</span>
  </em>
  <span> magic, if that makes sense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked up at him.  It made sense. And his eyes were such an unbelievably vivid green - like the anemone leaves below, like the flood of color back into the world in springtime.  Realizing she’d been quiet just long enough to touch on the awkward, she cleared her throat, nodding. “Yes, yes, that does make sense. Now I’m curious, too.” She hemmed a minute before asking, “Em, and after that, anything… unusual?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His color rose a little again.  “As I understand it, unicorns… draw things out a bit by comparison to other equines, even, say, Abraxans, who coordinate everything in mid-air, so… well, that hasn’t been specified much but I hope I can record some of what happens, I guess, for others.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For posterity,” she murmured, looking up at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Em, yeah,” he murmured even more quietly, gazing down at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Infinitesimally, they turned toward each other.  Leaned toward each other. Static drew the fronts of their robes together, and there, on their knees, his head stooped not to scrape the ceiling, they forgot to feel awkward about falling, just a little, into each other’s eyes - lost only in the wonder of intimacy without any real self-consciousness - or consciousness of the other, really - to incite embarrassment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, in the distance, a whinny - and they jolted apart.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Gateau St. Honoré</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW for this chapter specifically: frisky unicorns.  You could skip it, but you'd lose some background, and I did scale it back considerably from the norms someone who's, say, read my Magizoologist Luna series might expect.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The Unicorns were coming.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One pair still silver-dappled, the rest so white the moon, the flowers, the scattered spots of snow grayed and shrank from their brightness.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And they </span>
  <em>
    <span>were</span>
  </em>
  <span> dancing.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Perhaps thirty pairs came to the glade. Most of them were of a stallion and a mare, but several were two of a kind.  Only the few closest - including the young, silvery pair - were clearly visible, and so it was on those few that they focused their observation.  Barnaby silently vanished the glass in the windows, not even remembering it was a difficult spell for him even when vocalized, not even thinking about risking making a sound in opening them.  And together, quietly edging forward on their knees, still huddled together in his cloak, they leaned forward to see the sight below.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With creatures crowned in three-foot horns were dancing below - creatures ten feet tall while simply standing who now kicked and reared - twenty feet off the ground no longer seemed such a long way up.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Though the youngest pair were entrancing in their relative awkwardness and spontaneity, she found herself most often gazing at another, fully mature couple - brilliantly white and glowing beside the steaming pool.  Their dance was a mirror of the others surrounding, though not in synchronicity or step-for-step - all the couples had an organic, individual element to how they moved, a sort of personality. Some were more playful, and some more dignified.  Some faster, some stately.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The couple on which she focused was spirited and intense, spinning around each other, facing each other, making a show of clacking their teeth at each other in a threat of biting to keep each other at bay and then galloping around each other, long arched neck caressing neck, flank brushing flank, the stallion always slightly larger and longer of stride, using his body to curve the mare into a tighter arc.  Eventually, he was simply galloping around her, and after a little rear and a huff of frustration, she danced in place, watching. Occasionally taking a nip at his hide.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Slowly, slowly, lifting her tail, her flanks twitching, head tossing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The stallion, meanwhile, eventually stopped surrounding her - he’d made his point. Now, it seemed, it was time to make his case - to give her something so beautiful, she’d share her flesh with him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> beautiful.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Starting slowly, he planted his front hooves in place and began to kick and twirl his hindquarters around them.  As he gained speed, his horn began to glow with a pale violet light.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All over the flowered valley, different-colored lights began to glow from other couples engaged in similar dances.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barnaby gasped, nudging her shoulder with his own and silently mouthing the word, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Look!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Drawing her gaze back from the other couples, she dropped her eyes to the pair she’d been studying and immediately saw what had captivated her friend.  Now the stallion moved quickly, his neck bobbing sinuously with his bucking spin. As he moved, though, the light of his horn lingered in the air, tracing intricate patterns.  Patterns… that reminded her of Rowan’s arithmancy diagrams. Of her cousin Dean’s old spirograph toy. Of her grandmother’s ancient grimoire, which held diagrams of </span>
  <em>
    <span>old </span>
  </em>
  <span>magic - magic, her grandmother had said, from before when things were so standardized, when there was more mystery and ritual to everything, more wonder.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As she watched the light finally linger so long it seemed to develop weight and sink to create glowing geometric patterns on the ground - pentacles and stars in fractal multitudes - she wondered if, perhaps, her parents had been too quick to nod indulgently and dismiss those claims as the fruit of dementia.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, the stallion slowed and finally stopped, stepping back from his work and facing the mare, sides heaving with labored breath.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barnaby was madly sketching, tapping his temple with his wand and bottling copies of his memories, without ever taking his eyes off of the action.  His movement was so fluid and graceful when he was so utterly focused, so utterly engaged. She tore her eyes from the unicorns a moment to sneak a look at him, a pang of jealousy for anything that could so captivate him sounding in her treacherous heart. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But then, fearful his eyes might be coming up to hers, she looked back out the window.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Slowly, the mare was approaching the lacework of light her lover had drawn for her among the trampled flowers.  As she looked, her own horn began to glow - hers a pale yellow to complement his violet.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a slight glance up to him and a toss of her head, she lowered her horn to touch the center of the lit-up offering - and immediately her own golden hue shot through his design in a perfect counterpoint to each line, for a moment glowing with both in infinite complexity before the entire amalgamated construct exploded into pure, white light, her horn still pressed to its center.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The stallion whinnied like a sigh - almost like a moan - and seemed to exhale in relief before, slowly, moving forward.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The mare held her horn to the ground, white light pulsing from her into the now all-white lacework beneath, though she did dance in place a bit.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Above, the witch gulped as she saw the mare’s tail was now not just proudly elevated but lifted up and aside.  As the stallion began to drag his nose, nuzzling, from the mare’s cheek up her neck and back, she unthinkingly grabbed Barnaby’s hand in a vice-like grip, almost frightened by the imminence of the primal act she knew approached.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barnaby glanced over at her, face briefly shocked, before tearing his attention away and back to the thing he had brought them both here to witness.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The mare nickered softly as the stallion arrived behind her, nosing under her tale with a great huff of breath.  His tongue darted out and he lingered, licking, nosing, tasting, pressing.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barnaby’s eyes went half-lidded, his lips parting.  The witch’s eyes went wide and scared.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What happened next was very sudden.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a scream of triumph, the stallion reared up and covered the mare.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It took four tries for the stallion to successfully achieve his goal, and with each of those thrusts, the witch and wizard shuddered, until they’d somehow insinuated themselves into holding each other side-by-side, arms around each other, holding each other tight and quaking with every evidence of terror.  The failed attempts gave both ample opportunity to see the astonishing bulk of the instrument with which the stallion was attempting to work as it glanced off the mare. The witch gasped when, finally, the stallion succeeded, jerking in the wizard’s arms as he tried both to watch and comfort her.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As her mate sank home, the mare finally stumbled, her head coming up, the glow of the symbol beneath her head flickering but holding.  She tossed her head, rearing just a little before the stallion’s weight pinned her - and his teeth sank into her neck at the end of her mane, just above her withers, as his haunches heaved in quick, brutal thrusts.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The witch could see the whites of the mare’s eyes, and she did not know whether it was agony or ecstasy that she suffered.  She huddled into the warmth, the comfort, the soothing space defined by the body of her friend, blinking hard with each thrust’s terminal impact.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It seemed to go on forever.  Across the valley, unicorn was mounting unicorn, lit from the moon above and their magic below, sometimes stumbling in flagrante delicto, sometimes shuddering through the motions of their lust.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The witch cringed closer to the wizard.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>It can’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>not</span>
  <em>
    <span> hurt - can it?</span>
  </em>
  <span>  she wondered, her inner voice small.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barnaby pressed his lips to her ear, still barely audible when he whispered “Are you okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her nails, she saw, had dug little half-moon cuts into his hand, she was holding on so tight.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thrust, thrust, thrust.  </span>
  </em>
  <span>It seemed to be speeding to a crescendo, below.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She forgot to respond when the first light just </span>
  <em>
    <span>burst.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then another, and another.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, the couple they’d both watched most closely was momentarily illuminated in a blinding light, brighter still than they themselves, the stallion screaming with one final, brutal thrust of his rear legs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then the light went out, and the stallion’s mouth had released the mare’s neck to let his head droop, heaving with his breath, down along her neck. She stayed there under him twitching a little along with him, and nickered softly, as if to reassure.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The witch couldn’t even describe how reassured </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> was by this sound of care after what had looked so… violent.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, slowly, the stallion eased off his mate.  Barnaby and the vault-breaker shivered a little together, blinking, a weird sense of unreality lingering in the aftermath.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then, slowly, in pairs, the unicorns walked away - to the lip of the cratered valley, and finally, beyond sight.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Bakewell Tarts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The witch and the wizard remained huddled together, unmoving except to slow their racing breaths, their racing hearts, for a long while even after the last of the unicorns departed.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She, at least, was terrified of breaking the spell of comfort she now felt entangled with Barnaby - she was scared, so scared, of whatever might happen if she turned her face to his.  Would there be recognition there? A beginning? Sympathy? Or nothing but excitement at a wonderful new discovery?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Each possibility was scarier than the last.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally she heard him swallow, and, shakily, let go of her shoulder to stroke soothingly down her back.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A few strokes later, he was making shushing sounds, as she’d seen him do to gentle hipogriffs, to calm invisible thestrals.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She heard him sigh, then, too, his shoulders slumping slightly before he spoke, his voice small.  “I… wow. I’m just so… well. I… wish I could ever have anything so beautiful to… to offer you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her spine jolted straight, her eyes flying wide open and her body pulling back to find his eyes with hers.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Barnaby!” she cried.  “Merlin’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>pants</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you are</span>
  <em>
    <span> every inch</span>
  </em>
  <span> as beautiful as any of that, you ridiculous, ridiculous creature!” Her eyes flared as she very nearly glared at him in defiance of his self-doubt.  “Don’t you know how people look at you?” She shook her head, screwing up her courage and trying not to let her voice shake “How </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>look at you?  And then you bring me to </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>, share something that means as much to you as this, something as objectively and incredibly rare and magical as this, and you think </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>have nothing to offer? How can you not see how utterly fanciable and … and… </span>
  <em>
    <span>worthy</span>
  </em>
  <span> you are?!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d spoken this last bit in a rush and now knelt drawn up to her full height (well, above the knees, anyway), chest heaving from agitation and recovering from having forgotten to breathe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes, meanwhile, had widened in shock with every new word as he’d listened, and once she had caught her breath enough to realize what had just flown past her lips, she squeaked in horror and ducked back under his arm, huddling close but hiding her face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They stayed like that a long while.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, he shuffled into a position to face her, gently disentangling his hand from her death grip on his.  Her eyes flickered down to let her see she had, at least, not drawn any blood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just as she was steeling herself, realizing she couldn’t delay much longer, his fingertips slid from her throat to her chin, softly tilting her face upward.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His lips were still slightly parted.  His eyelids, still and heavy.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And in those green eyes, she did see concern and compassion, but also resolution - a decision on some inevitable truth.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One hitched breath after their eyes met, his drifted closed as he brought his lips to hers.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Croquembouche</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>His mouth was firm against hers.  It asserted what he wanted. It pressed her softness with a clear, undoubtable desire.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But it did not overstay its welcome or overplay its hand before he leaned back, pulling away, his eyes both determined and a little anxious as they landed once again on hers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She blinked at him, her lips parted, her lids now heavy, her breath coming painfully fast… a clenching low in her abdomen unlike anything she’d ever felt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She heard herself whimper slightly, and saw him begin to move to comfort her, then stop himself, holding to wait for permission, for an answer, even though it clearly broke his heart to see her pained.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Barnaby, I…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He cocked his head at her, reaching slowly, hesitantly out to tuck an errant lock of hair behind her ear.  Silent.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her face threatened to crumple for a moment, and then she threw herself into his arms, her mouth covering his, her tongue immediately pushing his lips apart and plunging past them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It only took half a beat for his arms to wrap low and tight around her waist, pulling her flush against him from thigh to chest.  His body was so </span>
  <em>
    <span>hard</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but all of it moving, beneath his skin, beneath his clothes, all that muscle flexing and bulging and rippling its imprint into her in a symphony of sensation that could just about make her weep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d never even kissed anyone before, unless you counted Ben, and that was just to give him some modicum of courage to face a potions exam last year.  That had </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> been the right thing to do - but this was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> the time to think on it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the present, her tongue danced with Barnaby’s as if they knew how, only occasionally slipping awkwardly, going awry.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time they could bear to pull their faces apart, she’d absolutely mauled his hair into a spectacular mess, and he… well, she could feel how aroused he’d become in the form of a hard jab against her belly, and it was both heady and terrifying.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Barnaby, I’ve never -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me neither.  Have I,” he looked down at her in concern, “have I done it wrong?  Do you want me to stop? Have I hurt you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She couldn’t suppress a strangled little laugh, but she followed it with words before he could be hurt or confused. “You’re perfect.  And… I want. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  So much.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes darkened as he looked down, a smile flickering across his lips.  “Oh.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She gulped.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, indeed.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Em,” she said, swaying with him, their torsos still flush together, his arms still right around her waist.  “I want and want and want, only… what we just saw… it scared me, and I’ve never, ever… any of it, ever.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He blinked down at her, almost sleepy-looking in his arousal.  “Gosh, I’d like to do any, all of it, with you. But I haven’t, either.”  He blinked at her for a moment, and she looked back up at him, before he added: “What scared you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shifted slightly, glancing down as she spoke.  “Em. It was… violent. It looked like it hurt. And… and his nose down there!?  And… it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>huge</span>
  </em>
  <span>… and… and… the …  the </span>
  <em>
    <span>forcefulness</span>
  </em>
  <span>...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barnaby nodded, a little moue of understanding on his lips.  He’d never seen unicorns mate before, but he’d seen other creatures, and asked questions and determined answers.  And, well, his roommates talked, and his uncle’s library had interesting pictures and books. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” he started slowly, “I understand the having-your-mouth-down-there bit is quite nice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked incredulous.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded earnestly.  “No, really. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Really</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  I would </span>
  <em>
    <span>love </span>
  </em>
  <span>to do that with you, if you’d let me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The knot low in her abdomen pulsed tighter, and she wondered if it could accurately be described as painful - which was the closest she could come to finding a word for it.  In response to him, though, she made a noncommittal, unconvinced little sound. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He chuckled. “I can’t make you believe it but you know I can’t lie for anything.  As to the rest…” He took a breath. “Well, it can be gentler, or it can be rougher, but the first time often stings a bit at first for, well, people with vaginas, because… well, you know, yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nodded shakily, finding herself hanging pathetically on the calm tone of his voice as he spoke even though she already knew several bits of what he was saying.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And,” he said, then paused to shrug.  “Em, I understand that, no matter how big, people are generally made to fit each other, however… unlikely it looks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her eyes darted downward thoughtlessly and then back to his face.  He nodded slowly. “Em, I’ve… I’ve been told I…” He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.  “I look a bit unlikely. But, em, still should, I guess, fit. Maybe… maybe even be better, for it?  Em, eventually?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was turning crimson, which somehow made her feel less alone.  Stumbling through her thoughts, she found her voice. “Em… if we… if we wanted to… you know… where would we start?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He blinked slowly, a smile tentatively bending the corners of his lips.  “With more of what we have done, and… seeing what feels right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She frowned a little, but still shuffled a bit closer.  “What feels right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shrugged, smile spreading as he closed the gap between them, putting his arms around her again.  “But maybe talking about anything we </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> want, or lines we </span>
  <em>
    <span>shouldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> cross, first?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nodded slowly.  “I… well, I’m on a potion that helps with… well, with pain, but it’s also a contraceptive.”  She gulped, looking up into his earnest, attentive face. “I… well, I don’t want to do anything I say no to in the moment, anything that starts feeling wrong, but… apart from that…” She trailed off, shrugging.  “I want to </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>what feels right.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded slowly.  “Right. And… and we can… we can try... </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She thought a moment.  “We can… investigate anything that feels right once we’ve built up to it.  I mean… if you’d like? I … well… why not, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d asked with the earnestness of someone who </span>
  <em>
    <span>suspected </span>
  </em>
  <span>there </span>
  <em>
    <span>might be </span>
  </em>
  <span>a reason why not, but didn’t know it, having had no sex ed, no present elder sibling, a distinct lack of cool aunties, and absolutely zero parental conversations on the subject. And besides, kids their age talked very knowingly (and therefore obviously with experience) on this subject all the time, right? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He, of course, was much the same.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked down at her thoughtfully.  “I’d awfully like to take your clothes off you.  Might that feel right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A little shiver lanced through her that ended in a deep thrum in that same, low knot.  “Maybe… maybe with some kissing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smiled and leaned into her face.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Capezzoli di Venere</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>As their mouths learned together, his fingers nimbly slid her robes off her shoulders then loosened and finally removed her tie.  After, as she blinked in surprise at the stomach-melting sensation of him sucking on her tongue, he worked down her shirt buttons, finally reaching through the parted white cotton to skim his warm hands over her stomach and sides.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It happened so quickly that the thought to suck her belly in didn't even occur to her until his guileless approval had made insecurity a muddled and distant afterthought.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He moaned, his kiss becoming more demanding, as his hands became a little less controlled, impatiently entangled a moment before yanking the shirt down and off her arms behind her back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As his hands calmed and explored her shoulder blades, drifting toward the curious fastenings of her bra, a thrill went through her alongside a realization: It </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> scary.  But she </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span> it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Realizing that she had curiosity of her own, and that she </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted </span>
  </em>
  <span>her skin to touch his, she yanked his hands clear of her long enough to take his shirt - collar ever-unbuttoned - and sweater off over his head in one go.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Rowena, Salazar, Godric, and Helga</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>he is </span>
  </em>
  <span>perfect, she thought, gazing at his body only briefly before pressing her own against it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh, gods, it felt… </span>
  <em>
    <span>it felt</span>
  </em>
  <span>…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And </span>
  <em>
    <span>then</span>
  </em>
  <span>, before her mind could settle on a word, he figured out how to unfasten her bra.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not waiting for him, she gave a little growl of hunger and ripped the offending article off her shoulders and away from her chest, casting it aside.  He gasped in wonder, eyes sinking to take her in, but she was already throwing herself back against him, relishing the press of her softness against his less yielding form.  He shuddered at the press and then worked his hands up from between their bellies as their mouths locked together again, moaning into her mouth as his fingertips slid up and finally parted their torsos enough to cup her delicate mounds, each tipped with an achingly erect nipple.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She moaned and her head fell backward, at which point what felt right, to Barnaby, was kissing his way down her neck to suck at the one of the little indentations above her collar bone, which made her convulse in a host of new sensations she would never have anticipated in all their intensity.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Barnaby,” she whined, wanting something, wanting it faster, wanting it </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but not even knowing what to ask for.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Meanwhile, he continued down, slowly, until he noticed by her clenched, shaking fists that she was both beyond articulation and fuming.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes darted up to hers for a moment before he lowered his mouth to close his lips over one of her painfully tight buds.  She cried out, the sensation unbearable. She supposed it was pleasure; she never wanted it to do anything but escalate, preferably simultaneously on both her breasts at once.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he gave the nipple his mouth was neglecting an experimental pinch, though, she screamed “Yes!” before the thought of the word had even crossed her mind.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What felt right then, it seemed, was for him to suck hard and pinch more firmly, which led her to feel extremely right about falling onto her back and pulling him down on top of her, tangling her fingers in his hair and arching up into him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, Merlin, Barnaby, please… </span>
  <em>
    <span>please…</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulled his mouth from her flesh with a pop, eyes muzzy but voice eager to please.  “Please? What would you like me to do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shuddered to her toes at the question, pulling his head back down to her other breast.  “Everything. Do </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  Would that feel right to you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes rolled slightly and, with a little growl, he took her still-unkissed nipple into his mouth and, delicately if not precisely <em>gently</em>, bit down.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Pignoli</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>She screamed, the knot within her pulsing in agonized pleasure as she helplessly rolled her hips up into him, eyes streaming tears of something approximating joy.  His blunted teeth remained clamped down on her - occasionally, experimentally, pinching just a little bit </span>
  <em>
    <span>harder</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt so incredible she kicked her feet like a small child having a tantrum and sobbed.  She felt wetness, which had been present but not obtrusive to this point, begin to seep into her knickers.  They’d be soaked in an instant, at this rate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barnaby let up to moan a little, and though she arched her chest up toward him in frustration, rather than returning to his prior place he began to kiss the undersides of her breasts, then lower.  Inching downward, he paused to flick his tongue into her navel before his eyes flicked up to hers questioningly as his mouth kissed along the hem of her skirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaking, she nodded, and he unfastened the pleated kilt from around her waist and pulled it away, leaving her bare but for her knickers and warm over-the-knee socks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shuddered, a flash of primal thirst in his eyes as he surveyed her beneath him thus, fingers drifting to skim the lacy edges of her last sartorial obstruction until his eyes flicked up to see hers watching him, looking hopeful and a little scared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He immediately worried, pulling away a little to question her in an awkward rush.  “Are you alright? Have I done something wrong? What would you like, now? How can I make this good for you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked at him for a narrow instant before casting her eyes down again and letting out a shaky breath.  “I… em… I wanted to know if … if you liked…” she faltered, voice shrinking, then continued in a rush, “if you liked </span>
  <em>
    <span>me?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinked in confusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She clarified.  “Em, if … if you like what you </span>
  <em>
    <span>see</span>
  </em>
  <span>, now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes widened in surprise.  “I… you… Sweet Salazar’s Serpent, I… </span>
  <em>
    <span>seriously</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you don’t know?”  He shook his head, unable to find words, and then he impulsively seized her hand and pressed it to his throbbing, aching erection, trying to let her feel what he couldn’t say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He eyes flew wide and somewhat frightened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He immediately dropped her hand, terrified he’d done it all wrong.  “I… I’m not good with words, sorry… I… you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and… my body… it just feels like I’ll </span>
  <em>
    <span>die </span>
  </em>
  <span>if I don’t keep touching you, looking at you.  I’ve never… </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>wanted to look at, or touch, anything, anyone, like I do with you right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knit her brow slowly, shivering slightly without his body pressed close.  “Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded fervently.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She opened her arms, and he dove into them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>❧ ❧ ❧</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While she was delighted to resolve all their anxiety and relief in spirited and thorough kissing, they somehow stumbled into the motion of a more ancient, primal act.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t think he realized it, exactly, until she did: when, on his next thrust against her and her next buck up into him, both moaned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then it became a very deliberate and careful dance indeed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Interweaving his fingers with hers before bracing himself on his elbows, Barnaby looked down into her eyes as, for the first time, he purposefully thrust his still-clad hips into hers in a pantomime of intercourse, grinding his hardness into her where she was soft, damp.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The intensity of that flashing green gaze would have brought her to her knees, had she not already been on her back.  So she did what felt right, since burning into pixie dust and floating away as a sparkling breeze wasn’t a ready option and what happened was all but reflexive anyhow: she moaned and ground up against him with every iota of frustration it elicited to have something feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> good and yet </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> incomplete.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it continued.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It continued to such a fevered pitch that both were crying out with each quick, hard collision, until Barnaby paused, chest heaving and eyes worried.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If… if we don’t stop… I’m worried I’ll make a mess of my trousers,” he panted, entirely unembarrassed by the admission, but clearly wanting to know what course she hoped this would take.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking up at him, feeling him against her, she shook her head slowly.  “I think… I think there might be other things we should try, then, don’t you?” She smiled a little coyly through a wave of bravado, then handed him control.  “Whatever you’d like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as he’d processed this invitation, with a little crow of delight, he sprang down her body and tore her knickers right off her, nuzzling into the warm, wet thatch between her legs with a moan.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Puits d'amour</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>She jumped in surprise, but the second he instinctively applied the same sort of demanding, open-mouthed kiss to her most intimate places, her need to squirm away in embarrassment was replaced by a need to melt into a puddle of molten desire.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As a very apt observer of animal behavior, it seemed he understood this - and continued, experimenting with where she best liked to be kissed, licked, and sucked, familiarizing himself with the lay of the land. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He murmured up to her, and his breath and the resonance of his voice, the brush of her he lips, tantalizing.  “It’s so… complicated and </span>
  <em>
    <span>pretty</span>
  </em>
  <span>… I’ve just got… well… not </span>
  <em>
    <span>this…</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She, meanwhile, barely remained cogent of thought until his lips closed around one particular place, at which point she ceased to think in words other than “please” - a word she breathed again and again at increasing volume, or thought she did. She couldn’t find  much attention with which to register what was coming out of her mouth as he worked.</span>
</p>
<p><span>She </span><em><span>did </span></em><span>at least</span> <span>manage, as her back arched off the floor, to breathlessly cry out, “</span><em><span>Barnaby!”</span></em></p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>…</span>
  </em>
  <span> right before the world whited out and she felt something snap within her in a gush.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>❧ ❧ ❧</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barnaby wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and blinked in awe.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I made you feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>that?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he murmured in disbelief.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She moaned an inarticulate affirmation and flopped a languid arm down to stroke his hair in a sort of boneless swipe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Slowly, licking his lips with a shudder of contentedness, he smiled, a smugness he hadn’t felt since well before this started coming over him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I</span>
  </em>
  <span> made you feel that,” he said, he said again, voice low and rough with self-satisfaction.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Meanwhile, as she came back to herself, feeling aftershocks pulse through her as her body already, again, screamed for more, she was mortified - until her eyes darted down to see Barnaby’s, and took in the proud smirk on his damp, beautiful face.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She took a deep breath, then another, eyes locked with his eyes where they peered up from between her legs. His broad, strong hands held her thighs spread apart and he looked as happy as she’d ever seen him as he bent again to nuzzle into the folds of her, starting again to explore her with his tongue.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Barnaby?” she said, her voice raw from crying out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmmm?” he hummed into her, sending a zing up her spine from the vibration.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please take your trousers off and show me how you fit in me.” “Now.  Five minutes ago. Yesterday.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He blinked in surprise, mouth floundering for words.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now,” she insisted.  “Five minutes ago. Yesterday.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a little huff of frustration, she fumbled for her wand and, while he still tripped over his reply, took aim and vanished any stitch of clothing that had the audacity to still be on Barnaby Lee’s body with a flick.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>❧ ❧ ❧</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her eyes widened at the sight of Barnaby’s immense erection flopping under its own swollen weight as he crawled up her body.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This fitting business?  She had </span>
  <em>
    <span>doubts</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her eyes were unable to look away, though.  She considered the encouraging possibility that, if he used it long enough, he’d probably hammer out a space for himself, and right now her body thought that it wanted that like nothing else in the world.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you sure?” he asked, kissing her lips with his own, covered in her salt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nodded, and with a deep breath, looking into her eyes, he thrust forward.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>… and missed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And again…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>… and glanced right, grumbling under his breath… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Until, finally, she reached down between him and guided him to her entrance, gulping in anticipation of pain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Seeming to sense this, he looked down at her solicitously, waiting even though his hips twitched and strained to defy his consideration.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, she nodded, and said “I prefer ripping bandages away quickly, and I think that’s how I’d like to do this, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barnaby blinked, stroking her hair.  “Are you certain?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nodded, looping her legs around his hips and relishing the press of him at her threshold.  “It… feels right.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded, fervidly agreeing - and then, taking a deep breath, pushed forward.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Cherry Cake</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Barnaby got about halfway in, the tightness of her even incompletely enveloping him the most unutterably right-feeling thing he had ever felt in his life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he’d felt the little bit of resistance, and knew from her wince that he’d torn through a small piece of her - a piece she’d never get back.  He didn’t know if that would happen - even </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> knew it didn’t always.  It was weirdly an honor, but also a concern - he was terribly worried he’d hurt her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he managed to focus his eyes on hers, though, she was both gritting her teeth in pain and completely rapt in pleasure, nodding impatiently for him to continue.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which he did.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Watching her as best he could through his own haze of new sensation, he shuddered into her, then out, then in, then out.  She flinched a little the first few times - but then started, slowly, to smile.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Distracted by relief, he found that, once his attention was back to his own movement, his intuitive physicality had found and fallen easily into a rhythm - a perfect, incredible rhythm - and that he was slipping just a little closer to the hilt with each new penetrative thrust.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And she… she was doing this thing with mashing her hips into his with this alarmingly primal </span>
  <em>
    <span>smack</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and it was just about </span>
  <em>
    <span>destroying </span>
  </em>
  <span>him, but he didn’t even know what that meant other than that he wished she’d never stop.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The feeling seemed mutual.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he had finally worked all the way into her, bumping into her cervix deliciously with each thrust, she moaned, “Fuck, Barnaby, this feels </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” and he moaned and helplessly went faster.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>❧ ❧ ❧</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a while later, their bodies slick with sweat and gasping, when he said, “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She parsed, re-parsed, and finally managed to muster vocabulary, hips continuing to slap against his enthusiastically at a rate of about once per second. “Why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shook his head, continuing to grind down into her.  “I think… it’s going to take me… a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot longer</span>
  </em>
  <span> … than it took the unicorns…” he admitted, looking downcast.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But to his surprise, she clenched her fists in triumph and grinned. “Oh thank Merlin, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and as hard and fast as you like, however you like, for as long as you can, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes widened a minute before he blinked slowly back at her.  “How… however I like?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nodded vehemently.  “Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shook his head, then swept her legs up to pin them folded against her chest while he, still inside her, flipped her over onto her hands and knees, eliciting a delighted little yelp of surprise.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think we should just make sure that this could feel right,” he breathed in her ear before, in cheeky imitation, he latched onto the back of her neck with his teeth and started to impress upon her just how very strong and fast he was, spurred on by her delighted laughter - which melted into a chorus of “yes!  YES!” as he reached under her chest to seize the handfuls of her breasts.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry to have been away, though you all have been fairly quiet, too - hope all's well and that I haven't accidentally had some fit of typing redrum all over everything spoil recent chapters.  I'll post a couple tonight to try to make it up to you, and because leaving this scene hanging is doing my head in even though I KNOW where it's going.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Knickerbocker Glory</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>That thing with the world whiting out had happened to the witch another five times, and she had decided that </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>was how she wanted to die - and she didn’t much mind if tonight was when it happened.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was straddling Barnaby, now, and though they’d both enjoyed her riding him for quite a while - including the bits where she loitered with the tip of him barely inside her before sinking slowly, torturously back down - at some point he’d just seized her hips and was, by the strength of his tremendous arms and chest, lifting her up and pulling her down at dizzying speed and to plummeting depths, the muscles of her own thighs existing in some liquidized state as she surrendered completely to his motive force.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Perhaps this was already some very pleasant afterlife.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Every muscle in her body protested at her every move, by now, regardless of how limp or how tense it might be under current use.  But really, most of the moves were </span>
  <em>
    <span>Barnaby</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Barnaby, lying beneath her, bucking up into her, eyes screwed shut in concentration, looking like a band ready to snap.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’d also like to live to do this again</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thought, smiling wryly to herself as she let her hand drift down to cup his cheek.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Barnaby, baby, I... I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>ready</span>
  </em>
  <span> for you, whenever you get there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After which he blinked his eyes open in confusion, and then, with a tremendous series of erratic thrusts that might have bounced her nearly into the low ceiling had his bruising grip not pulled her back down onto him, he cried out, gasping and finally letting her go to slam his fists down into the floor hard enough to shake the entire structure ominously as she began to feel warm, sticky wetness leaking in gushes from the point of their congress with his every inward thrust. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Religieuse</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>An hour later they both drifted in and out of consciousness, sticky with her lying naked on top of him, his cock not entirely soft inside her.  They had managed, at some point, to pull his cloak over them, at least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blinked awake for a moment, though, very certain something important had yet to be done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Barnaby?” she slurred sleepily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinked up at her stroking her back with the hand he’d left there.  “Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should have said this first,” she muttered.  “Promise to believe me? Because... it’s true.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He managed to be slightly more conscious, if still exceedingly groggy.  “Of course?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She steeled herself, then just blurted it out.  “Barnaby Lee, I am passionately, recklessly in love with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinked sleepily, a contented smile drifting over his lips.  “Oh. Good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked at him in expectant horror when that was all he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some alarm tripped by her rigid stillness, he roused a bit and blinked up at her, looking puzzled at her pale, worried face.  “You… you </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>I’ve loved you ever since I first talked to you, right?  That all I’ve wanted was to hold your hand for the last year?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She relaxed a bit, letting herself go luxuriantly limp atop him again.  “Oh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was already asleep. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Yum Yums</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <span>March 31, 1988</span>
</h3>
<p>
  <span>They didn’t wake until morning, and by then she figured they had either evaded detection, been excused for legitimate Care of Magical Creatures-related reasons, or gotten in a load of trouble.  It didn’t seem worth hurrying away from the heat-radiating, heavenly-smelling person wrapping around from behind to find out which.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d visited Rowan in the summer, once, and she and her mother had … well… </span>
  <em>
    <span>snuggled</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  It had been a poignant thing to see; no one had ever snuggled </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>like that, she didn’t think.  She wondered if they might have, had Jacob not disappeared.  If they might have dared to show each other more love, had there not been so much pain.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Barnaby… Barnaby’s parents had been in Azkaban since he was small, and he’d never even had a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jacob</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  She got the sense, too, that even before that… his family had never treated him kindly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The thought made her wiggle still more firmly back against him as she blinked at the filtered sunlight coming through the glass.  She couldn’t remember when they’d replaced it, but it was warm enough inside to be comfortable - at least while half-enfolded by… her boyfriend?!... under his enormous cloak.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, the very act of pressing more closely against him had unforeseen consequences.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>❧ ❧ ❧</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d nearly nodded off again when she felt his lips trailing from her shoulder up toward her neck, and … oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>goodness</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not turning or moving, she blinked a moment, suddenly spinning with a sense that this could not possibly really be happening.  Then, groggily, she spoke. “Good morning.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barnaby mumbled between kisses.  “Oh, Ichy, go away, I’m having the very </span>
  <em>
    <span>best </span>
  </em>
  <span>dream.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She blinked, eyes widening as he nuzzled into the joint of her neck and shoulder with a contented sigh and hitched her thigh back and over his hip, reaching down to… </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shrugging, she canted her hips to help him, feeling only a tiny sting as he slid in - and unable to suppress a little moan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barnaby, his face still buried in her neck, sleepily reached down to pull her thigh straight up, knee pointed toward the ceiling and calf folding down, affording him better access.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She contentedly rolled with him for a little while, yawning and slow and wanting always to wake up like this.  It was odd to think that, even a year ago, she hadn’t really cared one way or another about this whole aspect of human existence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sleeply, she murmured over her shoulder, “Who’s Icky?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he slowed to a pause, looking up and blinking.  “I… </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Not dreaming?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She twisted to kiss his nose delicately and shook her head.  “No.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gnawed at his lower lip, pulling back from her slightly.  “Oh, goodness, I can’t believe… I’m so sorry, I’ll stop, I -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Do not</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she said, chasing his retreating hips with hers before he could slip away from her.  “Please. Stay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked at her for a moment before burying his face in her neck again and pulling her into a crushingly tight, full-bodied embrace - and then, slowly, started again to thrust into her.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Napoleon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <span>HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT &amp; WIZARDRY</span>
</h3><p>
  <span>They had managed to get back to the school shortly before lunch without incident, having detoured toward the Care of Magical Creatures paddock en route - her idea, to make it look like that’s where they’d been returning from.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So it was that, before the tables cleared, she managed to grab a sandwich and some nectarines, wrapping them up in a napkin and hurrying out the door before the house elves could start looking at her disapprovingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she got into the entrance hall, she was delighted to see a friend whose early return she hadn’t anticipated: Andre.  He was wearing a beret and new sunglasses as well as a fashionable new coat that really complemented his Portree scarf - and directing a line of four large, levitating trunks in the front door with his wand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Andre!” she cried, running up to give him a hug.  He opened his arms to return it, kissing her on both cheeks before he let her go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s my girl.  Have you been incredibly bored without me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blinked a minute, then just laughed, because she didn’t even know </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> to say to that.  As the laughing petered out, though, and his eyes started to take on a calculating glint, she guessed a change of subject might be in order.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Em, I thought you were in Milan for the hols?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sniffed, gesturing to the first of his trunks.  “My dear, I bought Milan. Everything worth having there came back with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blinked, her eyes slowly panning over the other </span>
  <em>
    <span>three</span>
  </em>
  <span> trunks before her questioning gaze returned to his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was his turn to laugh, gesturing to the trunks in turn.  “I may also have conquered Paris, New York, and London while I was away - but, well, I was getting a little bored, and thought Tokyo might be excessive besides.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She realized she was gaping and snapped her mouth shut.  “Em… wow. Are you feeling alright? You running out of shopping sounds like … running out of the will to eat, or something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugged, poking the trunks along up the stairs with his wand and beckoning her to follow.  “Oh, just let me put these away - we can go get a butter beer and chat by the fire at Rosmerta’s.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hesitated a moment, but hadn’t actually made any plans to see Barnaby again this evening.  It made her anxious, especially as she recalled the silly feeling she’d had, as they walked back, that he’d never be out of arm’s reach ever again after such intense intimacy.  Clearly there would be work to make the logistics work, but only in hindsight.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At any rate, she supposed that it might be good for her to talk to another friend after such an eventful evening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>❧ ❧ ❧</span>
</p><h3>
  <span>THE THREE BROOMSTICKS, HOGSMEADE</span>
</h3><p>
  <span>She and Andre had settled into the cozy booth in the back corner near the fireplace at The Three Broomsticks and were sipping some of new, seasonal hot mulled Butterbeer - which she had to admit was one of Rosmerta’s better experiments.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a detailed run down of the various shops, purchases, art museums, and flirtations of his whirlwind week, Andre settled back contentedly, and their conversation slowed into a comfortable silence for a few beats of sipping and basking in the fire’s warmth.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It seemed as good as any time to ask questions.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Andre,” she said, swirling her butterbeer in her mug pensievely, “So why </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> you come back so early?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes sparkled with mischief.  “Well, I guess I was in need of a good, hard ride, and nowhere seemed better than Hogwarts for getting a little wood up under me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blushed scarlet and laughed - and he joined her at least in the latter.  “Andre! Are you and Facepaint Kid together again? I thought you dumped him when he let slip to Merula about your purple silk negligee!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waved his hand, “Darling, I was talking about </span>
  <em>
    <span>Quidditch</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  I was hoping you’d go flying with me some - what</span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span> did you think I meant?” he winked.  “Facepaint Kid, as you all insist upon calling him, may have another chance with me at some point, but he’ll have to apologize first - right now I’m deciding between having a run at the indomitable Ms. Haywood and getting some good strategy sessions in with our dear Mr. McNully.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughed again, not understanding but appreciating the fun her friend had with his life.  “Goodness, then. Sure, I’d love to get some practice in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grinned.  “Good. I bet you’ve been bored silly without me.  Well,” he said with a little seated bow, “your rescuer is here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled a little and blushed into her butterbeer.  “Well, em, no, actually. I … well, we’re close, you and I, right?  Because there have been developments, and I’d love to ask you some, er, questions.  About… things I don’t usually talk to people about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andre arched one perfect brow and leaned back, draping an arm across the back of the booth. “Oh?  I find I’m exceptionally curious. Do tell.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She picked up a little cream pot to have something to fidget with, tilting it to one side then the next and looking at her hands as she chose her words.  “Em, well - when you’ve had </span>
  <em>
    <span>sex</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you know, with Facepaint Kid and your various whirlwind romances… was it very… </span>
  <em>
    <span>intense?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He dropped his mug on the table with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>clank </span>
  </em>
  <span>and leaned forward, eyes wide.  “What?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blinked, surprised, leaning back away from him.  “Well, I mean - I just -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head in disbelief, staring at her.  “You mean to tell me you’ve …?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hesitated a moment and then, reluctantly, gave a slow nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He seemed … not actually furious, but certainly agitated.  “When you </span>
  <em>
    <span>weren’t even seeing anyone</span>
  </em>
  <span> a week ago?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blinked, trying to assemble a sheepish smile under his glare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Before </span>
  <em>
    <span>me?!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he squacked, his voice an octave above its usual low purr.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her jaw dropped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andre, meanwhile, recovered (well, sort of) quickly. He half-stood in his seat and, with an imperiousness he would by no means be allowed were he not incredibly charming </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>a phenomenal tipper, he waved across the pub to Rosmerta, holding up two fingers… then shaking his head and holding up four.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he slumped back down, crossing his arms in front of him with a little glower.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell.  Me. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Everything.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>... and that's it, for now.  There's a little left to come, but only three chapters (unless I add one, which I am considering).</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Mille-feuille</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>She’d never heard the phrase “close down the bar” before.  Really, it had been an extremely illuminating 24-ish hours, all-around.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Andre was walking beside her through the village in the dark, insisting no one would care they were late coming back to the castle during the holiday.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I cannot </span>
  <em>
    <span>believe </span>
  </em>
  <span>it,” he whined.  “You’ve devoured the most gorgeous, </span>
  <em>
    <span>enormous</span>
  </em>
  <span>, mouth-watering cinnamon roll in the known universe, and you did it all… you did it all in </span>
  <em>
    <span>one bite?!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She wrapped her arms around herself under her cloak, feeling unsure.  “I thought… Andre, from how you talk, and how </span>
  <em>
    <span>people </span>
  </em>
  <span>talk, I thought you, well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>devoured </span>
  </em>
  <span>a wide variety of bonbons all the time.  Three before breakfast, one in the closet between classes, sometimes on the Astronomy Tower in the middle of the night.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked at her as if she were speaking Attic Greek.  “Well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>yeah</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you talk trash and you </span>
  <em>
    <span>try </span>
  </em>
  <span>things, but… but…” he shrugged in frustration, kicking a rock from his path with feeling, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>usually</span>
  </em>
  <span> there’s a bit of a ramp up, yeah?”  He shook his head at her. “Don’t you… well.” He looked a little more thoughtful.  “I guess you functionally don’t have siblings, didn’t have many people our age to talk to, really, before school, what with Jacob’s disappearing act.  And Lee, well,” he shivered. “His parents are right nasty pieces of work, and they treated him </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad</span>
  </em>
  <span>, luv.  I have an aunt in the DMLE, and…” He trailed off, shaking his head.  “Only child, too. Been passed between grandparents who weren’t much better and his blowhard uncle since he was fresh out of nappies, and it’s a wonder he ended up the sweet, pure, mouthwatering hunk of-” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He cut himself off to have a little stomping conniption.  “You had that! You </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> that!  And no, no, darling, for all my bluster, the closest I’ve gotten to heaven’s been a good grope half on accident here and there, a little dry humping, and a very detailed conversation about how we’d do it if we did… but </span>
  <em>
    <span>then</span>
  </em>
  <span>, we didn’t.”  He sighed, slumping.  “And I guess I came close while measuring your dashing Mr. Lee, too.  Do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> the circumference of those thighs?  Ravenous Rowena above, I could lick </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> off that boy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was tired enough now that she just gave up on feeling tense and laughed.  “He… he is pretty delicious, truth be told.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed, dropping his arm around her as they wandered back through the castle gates.  “Just… just… bottle me some memories, that’s all I ask, I feel it’s fair-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” she said, but she did put her arm around him in turn.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed as if the most put-upon creature in the world.  “I got an emerald silk robe in Paris. You should give it to him.  At least describe the sight for me, maybe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She considered a minute and then nodded.  Andre subtly pumped his fist in triumph.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were nearing the main doors when he continued in a more serious voice.  “Listen, love - you’ve got contraception covered, yeah? You alright there?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” she blushed, nodding.  “Yeah, not to worry, I’m on the potion for cramps.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded thoughtfully, seeming to pick his words carefully.  “Look, darling - the world is cruel. My … my protection is such fabulous charisma none may assail me.  But for you… for </span>
  <em>
    <span>him… </span>
  </em>
  <span>you both have soft places that are a big part of who you are, and I wouldn’t want you to armor up even if I thought you could.  That said,” he sighed, scratching the close-cropped curls atop his head. “Well, look. People get judgy about sex. Sex and the unmarried.  Sex and with partners they don’t approve of - different class, different House, same gender. They get tetchy about it when people are young, in part because, as you note, it can get intense and word on the street is we’re still fairly childish.”  He screwed up his face and stuck out his tongue out at her in a leak of humor. “Or so they </span>
  <em>
    <span>tell</span>
  </em>
  <span> me, anyway.”  He shook his head, becoming serious again.  “This is Barnaby Lee, and Slytherin though he may be, I bet he had to beg that tatty old hat to poke him where he wouldn’t be disowned, because he’s got Gryffinpuff all over him.  I don’t think he’s using you, but especially as you’re the girl, you let this all get widely known, and folks will </span>
  <em>
    <span>assume</span>
  </em>
  <span> that.  They’ll think better of him and worse of you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She scrunched up her nose.  “I… knew some of that, I guess, but I thought everyone was … just… being hypocritical and giving everyone else a pass for doing the same?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shook his head.   “Honey, give me five minutes alone with your man in the Prefect’s bath - okay, maybe ten - and I will </span>
  <em>
    <span>found</span>
  </em>
  <span> that club with you, but… that’s not how it is, really.  And… to be honest, I’m not ready. But maybe… maybe you two need love so hard you are.  Or maybe you need it so hard it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>especially </span>
  </em>
  <span>risky for you.  I don’t know.” He massaged at his temples, stopping outside the door without opening it.  “Be good to each other, don’t let people know how far you’ve taken it, I guess that’s the best way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked at him a moment, then nodded.  “Yeah, alright. I guess I better talk to him about this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Andre nodded slowly and exaggeratedly.  “Yeah, y’think?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shook her head, looking up at the cloud-strewn sky.  “Don’t suppose </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> know how I can get word to him inside Slytherin’s evil underground lair, do you?  I snuck in once, but I have no idea what the password is these days, and Merula’s there besides.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Andre shook his head, scoffing.  “Oh, I’ll do you one better. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll</span>
  </em>
  <span> find him for you, to read him the riot act about protecting our fair lady’s reputation - in the kindest possible terms, of course, but it’s tradition. But as for where you can … ahem… </span>
  <em>
    <span>talk…</span>
  </em>
  <span>”  He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment.  “Listen, do you know where the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy is?  Or what you’re going to wear?”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Black Forest Gateau</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <span>THE ROOM OF REQUIREMENT</span>
</h3><p>
  <span>She felt like an idiot pacing in a deserted hallway in an almost-deserted castle, and wasn’t altogether convinced Andre was above pranking her with, well, allegations of being smitten with the troll cavorting about in a doxie-eaten tapestry in a tutu.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she tried.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I need a good place to meet with Barnaby, I need a place where we can talk privately and be comfortable, I need to know what’s happening is real and figure out how we can keep it… keep it beautiful.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She chewed on her tongue and dwelt on these thoughts as she paced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An errant thought slipped in, too: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wouldn’t mind some more tangible intimacy, too, though…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>To her amazement, a door really did appear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She approached it cautiously, her habits around Hogwarts’ secrets formed through a series of fraught interactions with the Cursed Vaults and a veritable mountain of subterfuge, fear, and injury - granted, with some good jokes and friendships along the way.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it didn’t seem like it was going to throw spectres of fear or he-who-must be named at her, or make her sleepwalk or freeze her where she stood.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So she sighed a minute and leaned her forehead against it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’d be so nice… </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>nice to have a person to love without intrigue and tragic history and trauma dividing them.  She really, really wanted this thing with Barnaby to be real. She had </span>
  <em>
    <span>no earthly idea</span>
  </em>
  <span> what she was doing, as Andre had amply demonstrated for her, but the strategy of pursuing what felt right… it was what she had, and she sort of liked that better than… than what was </span>
  <em>
    <span>done</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe they could have it their way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hoping that her little mental nudge to ask the door to be visible only to Barnaby would work, she took a deep breath and headed inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>❧ ❧ ❧</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knew it was a room, but it </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>didn’t look like one.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What it </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>look like was a perfect late May evening, with the gentlest intermittently-tickling breeze and the sort of temperature you’d be comfortable in whatever you wore.  There was a large central clearing with Wiggentrees and copper beeches all around - which could, she suppose, equate to walls, for how thick the low growth of fuchsia hedges got behind the third row deep in.   Little white onion flowers carpeted everything under the trees, with plentiful bluebells and yellow flag irises interspersed. Interestingly, though Andre had said the room couldn’t create anything alive, they all seemed to be real plants, and they were certainly populated by real fireflies, bowtruckles, and fairies - and she thought she might have even seen a couple of wood nymphs peek out from behind one pair of ancient trees that had grown together over time.  She wondered if the room had been anchored to outdoor spaces such that it could arrange manifestations like this one, but was too tired to be curious enough to try and work out if or how such a thing could actually be done. Maybe one of those old, messy spells - the kinds that had been the norm when Hogwarts itself was young.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a clearing itself, a little steaming pool bubbled.  It was surrounded by bright red poppies, interspersed with clumps of lavender.  And behind the pool, built of intricate wrought iron, was a wisteria-covered bower the size of a large gazebo.  An opening in its roof let the stars shine in.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bower’s floor was one enormous cushion with a variety of Turkish floor pillows and poufs scattered about.  It had a little table set with tea in the middle and was arranged for two to sit - which suggested some collaboration with the House Elves, as the room also shouldn’t be able to produce food, really, either. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hmm. Well.  If the room had somehow alerted the castle elves or friendlier local forest creatures </span>
  <em>
    <span>Barnaby </span>
  </em>
  <span>needed a beautiful place to talk to his new… </span>
  <em>
    <span>whatever </span>
  </em>
  <span>she was... she supposed they would have fallen over each other queuing to help, given how attentive he was to all of them - honestly, who </span>
  <em>
    <span>else </span>
  </em>
  <span>drank butterbeer with Bowtruckles? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least the tea made it look like a peaceful place to talk rather than a lair of seduction.  She’d read about those and they often had poufs, but she didn’t own anything </span>
  <em>
    <span>diaphanous</span>
  </em>
  <span>, whatever that meant, and didn’t stand still long enough for Andre to try to put her in something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It all suggested that the room was optimistic for them, at least, and hey, she’d take it - she wasn’t one to look a gift bower from an incredibly complex wish-granting piece of magic that had never shown any signs of being evil in the … in the… oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>whatever</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a little chocolate and cherry cake with the tea, too, and since she was nervous, she supposed she’d put slices on the little wedgewood plates beside it while she waited - rather than pacing or unraveling cushion fringes in destructive acts of anxiety.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>There remains one further chapter, but I think it needs some tweaking.  Burn slow, lovelies.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Plum Pudding</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He stepped in, looking around in fascination, just as she placed a second slice of cake on her own plate.  She blinked in surprise and chagrin as her body attempted to tense and relax at the same time, then shook her head and stood up to beckon him over.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This way, Barnaby - there’s tea and cake, likely thanks to your friends among the House Elves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barnaby brightened immediately as he, with some difficulty, stopped himself from following some shy creature around a tree. “Really?  They’re wonderful people, and do love taking care of us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her lips twitched, this time caught between a smile and a frown.  Her family had a couple of elves, and their families had served hers for generations.  She hadn’t ever really thought to call them people, but hearing Barnaby say it so casually made her suspect perhaps she ought to have.  “I… well. You’ll have to introduce me, maybe, sometime.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barnaby nodded delightedly as he plonked down onto a pouf and then scooted it up next to hers from around the table in two little sideways lurches, smiling in contentment only when the two quasi-chairs were so close as to be touching each other.  Satisfied, he reached across the table to bring his tea and cake around. “I’d love to! The Hogwarts Elves are really an incredible bunch, you know, even though I dearly love the family Elves I grew up with. There’s Bloona and Dilly and Oofrid and Dazel and -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She lost track, a bit, as he spoke, just watching his expression flicker between rapt and puzzled and excited and thoughtful.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was such a … presence, to him.  So many people she knew seemed to be hidden by layers and layers of insecurities, or second-guesses, or pretensions, or bad attitudes, or self-made mystery. She didn’t exclude herself from that, either - she was so wrapped up in history and family and the damned vaults she worried she’d cease to have anything to her at all without them.   Barnaby was just… </span>
  <em>
    <span>right there</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and it was like everything around him was brighter for it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he had such a weirdly exaggerated face that it was its very own mystery how it all managed to come together to be something so gorgeous.  She would love to spend, oh, ages and ages looking at him and trying to suss that one out.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She really ought to have picked that mystery from the get go, but she supposed she might not even have </span>
  <em>
    <span>met</span>
  </em>
  <span> Barnaby - and he might still be slaving under Merula’s thumb - if she hadn’t been caught up in what, for at least this moment, seemed like a bunch of exhausting nonsense that couldn’t possibly end well and really shouldn’t be her responsibility to begin with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-and </span>
  <em>
    <span>then, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dazel was up on top of the enormous keg of firewhiskey the faculty keep for the Governors, swinging this morningstar, right, that must have been at least three times his weight, and shrieking at the top of his lungs, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘By my snotty foul tea towel, you pesky pixies shall not have my scones!’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>- and </span>
  <em>
    <span>then-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She blinked, shaking herself.  She </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> had to stop zoning out on Barnaby’s words when she was preoccupied with his … existence. Face. Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>whatever</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Em, Barns… sorry, I did that thing again where I wasn’t really building castles in Spain but my mind wandered because I was staring at you and stuff.”  She sighed. “Forgive me - I didn’t catch a lot of that, and I really would like to know… maybe the short version?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinked, looking puzzled for a moment and then settling on radiant happiness.  “You stare at </span>
  <em>
    <span>me?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t help it; she burst out laughing.  “Yes, silly, given, well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>, why would that still surprise you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugged, blushing a bit.  “Well, I have such silly eyebrows, and-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-and if you try to magically shrink them again I’ll confiscate your wand.  They’re perfect, you ninny, hush.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes went wide before he blinked, fingers floating up to poke at his forehead to see if the eyebrows he meant were the same ones he did.  “What, </span>
  <em>
    <span>these?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She rolled her eyes.  “And every other inch of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something a little more smouldering lit in his eyes as he smoothly crawled over her, tipping her over onto the mess of cushions to one side of her pouf.  She barely got her tea back onto its saucer before the table was out of reach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eep!” she squeaked.  “Barnaby, what are you -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grinned down at her before firmly, thoroughly kissing her, barely flicking his tongue into her mouth before pulling back with a grin as he eased his weight down over her.  “You said you liked every inch of me, and I’ve missed having my inches touching your inches all afternoon and half the night.” His smile wavered a little and fell as he huffed out a sigh and let his head fall down onto her chest, ear over her heart.  “You were </span>
  <em>
    <span>gone</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  I kept eating dinner until my stomach hurt and Dilly shooed me off with a Tummy Ache Draught, but no matter how long I ate I didn’t see you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded slightly and looked down at the top of his head, reflexively bringing her hands up to stroke his hair.  “Andre came home early, and we got into a long conversation at the Three Broomsticks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wiggled his head down into the valley between her breasts, turning his face down to nuzzle close and breathe deep.  His voice was muffled when he spoke. “Andre said I had to be excellent and always listen and look out for you and never hurt you or he’d transfigure me into a beanbag, and then he told me to come here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She chuckled a little then nodded, letting her knees part as his thighs tried to press between, even now with not a bit of guilt or worry she was doing something wrong.  He sighed louder, though more contentedly this time, threading his arms under the small of her back to embrace her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” she started eventually, having paused to delight in the fact that their breathing had somehow gotten in sync, “Em, the thing is, Andre told me that we’re probably at least nearly the first people our age to, em, well, have sex.”  His head shot up with a look of surprise on his face, so she rushed on to finish before he started to talk. “Em, and that most people spend years only kissing first, and then maybe only taking some clothes off, before they do, well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barnaby blinked in puzzlement.  “But we </span>
  <em>
    <span>haven’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>done everything.  There’s loads more I know people do, most of it even sounds nice enough to try, and -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head.  “So, em, </span>
  <em>
    <span>heh</span>
  </em>
  <span>, we can revisit all the other things you know people do because </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> don’t think I know much more and I’m curious, but… the, em, </span>
  <em>
    <span>completely naked</span>
  </em>
  <span> bit and the act that can, without potion, </span>
  <em>
    <span>make babies</span>
  </em>
  <span> bit - those are, er, usually older, later things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barnaby scratched his head, propping himself up on the other elbow.  “That can’t be right. My grandparents were married at our age, and my grandmother left Hogwarts early to have babies, and… that just… </span>
  <em>
    <span>really?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her turn to blink.  Her family’s blood wasn’t purely magical back that far - her mother was a half-blood - and her family hadn’t been from </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> kind of old-fashioned wizarding stock. “Em… I think your family has… old pureblood traditions?  But even in families like yours, I don’t know if it’s even </span>
  <em>
    <span>legal </span>
  </em>
  <span>anymore, getting married before you’re of age.  And… well…” She faltered when she saw his face fall.  “Barnaby, what is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t mess it up so you can’t marry me, did I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt her heart lurch.  His voice had been so uncharacteristically small when he’d spoken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Barnaby, I want to be with you, but I’m not ready to be married yet.  If we still want to when we’re of age, though, and maybe after we’ve been out of school a year or two, I’d like to talk about that possibility.  It’s just… soon, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes gazed up at her, looking rather world-swallowingly huge, and the boy behind them looked extremely confused and uncertain if he was being hurt or rejected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For what doubtless would be the million-and-tenth time someone he loved had done </span>
  <em>
    <span>that.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head, growling in exasperation as she scooted down under him to bring her face level with his and pulled him into a crushing, tooth-knocking sort of kiss.  She tried to pour all her sincerity and affection and very </span>
  <em>
    <span>real </span>
  </em>
  <span>interest and love into it, tried to crawl into his soul through some hidden door only a thorough search of his mouth could find.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t pull back until her vision started to dim because it was the sort of kiss that mashed your nose past the point of being able to breathe while your mouth was preoccupied.  And then she tried to catch her breath to speak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Barnaby, I don’t regret </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> we did.  I just wanted to let you know what I found out, which is that we should be </span>
  <em>
    <span>careful </span>
  </em>
  <span>or people will worry about how far we went and how fast we got there.  A couple years from now, more of them will be doing it too, but for now, if we want to continue, we can meet here, or sneak into the forest, or, I don’t know, that huge firewhiskey cask for all I care.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He mouthed her final words as if in shock a moment, and then laughed, shaking his head.  “Dazel’d have our guts for garters. He’s the elvish weapons master, and the master of cellars too.  He patrols and everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughed a little in relief, shaking her head up at him.  “You never did finish that story.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinked, looking back down at her and cocking his head.  “No, I didn’t because you’re much more important. So… so we get to be like last night, only we can’t tell anyone?”  He gnawed at his lower lip. “I… is that lying? Because I’m not good at lying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head.  “I think it’s just not saying everything about what we do together.  We don’t get to be like last night all the time - we, well, need go to class and things - but we </span>
  <em>
    <span>can </span>
  </em>
  <span>when we can find time by ourselves when no one will interrupt us.  In front of other people we can just be… just be dating? Em,” she hesitated, feeling weirdly like she was asking the boy who’d lost his virginity with her last night and already exchanged declarations of love with on a first date, “Em, that is if you’d like to be my boyfriend?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked flabberghasted.  “You… you’d date </span>
  <em>
    <span>me?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled gently, the anxiety seeping from her and evaporating as quickly as it had come.  “I love you, you love </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I’m here with you, we did… well, what </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> thought was just about everything and I’d like to do it </span>
  <em>
    <span>again</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I’ve just said we can talk about marriage when we’re older… and that I want to hold your hand and walk you to class </span>
  <em>
    <span>surprises </span>
  </em>
  <span>you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He suddenly got a canny, bargaining sort of look on his face.  “You walk me to class?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded slowly, not sure where this was going.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... but I get to carry your books, alright?” he said, as if negotiating.  “And I can get you presents and maybe sometimes kiss you goodbye around trains and things?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She snorted with a grin.  “Only if </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> get to pull out your chair and open doors for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He considered for a long moment.  “Can I write you on nice-smelling paper?  Maybe pink?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded, stifling a laugh.  “Sure, but I can write </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> on nice-smelling paper, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He moaned, scooting back down to bury his nose between her breasts again before his voice rumbled through her sternum.  “Just scent it here. Keep the paper here, then send it to me, or maybe bring it to me so that I can smell you right after, because smelling without touching,” he said, finally looking up with the earnestness of recent realization, “Would be very difficult.  I might have to come and find you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what if I sent it because I </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted you</span>
  </em>
  <span> to come and find me?” she teased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grinned, climbing back up her with a suddenly predatory grace.  “Tell me, and I will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She let her head fall back as a giddy little flutter went through her, and before she could look up, he’d picked her up and stood, supporting one of her thighs with each hand and walked the few steps to pin her against one of the wisteria-covered columns surrounding the bower.  Before she could even truly process this, he was picking her legs up to wrap them around his waist, crossing her ankles behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” he gasped, leaning against her to hold her there as his hands adjusted and rutting against her through his clothes. “I can’t, I need, … </span>
  <em>
    <span>please?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She shuddered, acutely aware of his hands as they fumbled under her to free himself from his trousers, then to push her knickers aside.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>As he shuddered and pushed into her, she braced her hands in the thick vines and pushed down against him as the thrust of his hips sank home and pushed further to lift her up, and both quaked with the affirmation that this was </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that this was </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that </span>
  <em>
    <span>they </span>
  </em>
  <span>were </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe</span>
  </em>
  <span>, open-hearted, </span>
  <em>
    <span>together</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that they both </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted </span>
  </em>
  <span>this, wanted each other, wanted to show each other, wanted to </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel </span>
  </em>
  <span>each other, </span>
  <em>
    <span>give</span>
  </em>
  <span> each other absolutely the most beautiful, world-changingly good things they could ever imagine, that they were in love and that nothing could overshadow it, nothing could take it, neither would change it, even if they could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so, moving together, quick and strong and sure, they let go of all the words and </span>
  <em>
    <span>felt </span>
  </em>
  <span>together.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Alright, so I wanted to finish it.  I do hope you enjoyed, and that you'll let me know what you thought in the comments and perhaps check out my other work.  If you liked this, Inconspicuous is probabably the most similar in tone of the things I've written, though it's less dedicated to smuttiness.  There are some one shots for that, though...</p><p>&lt;3  Thank you for reading!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>With very many thanks to accursed human who got me into playing this gosh darn game/excellent beta and interlocutor, granger_danger.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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